House of Valentine
by KLAbbott
Summary: Clary and Simon go to live with Jace, Maryse and Valentine in the House of Mythstory, where bonds are shared, and then shattered; where the past is remembered, the present revealed and the future lays in ruin. In a world of deception, intrigue and powerful secrets, three young children must survive the great danger that connects them all, to save themselves and the ones they love.
1. A Silent Waging of War

**A/N: I do not own Mortal Instruments, or the names of its characters. I do however own my characters as are written in this story, and this story itself. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**"… a silent waging of war."**

* * *

_Fourteen years earlier. 8738 FA_

_Sphere Lasan. House of Valentine_

Hard gray stone walls, looming up and over two tiny little children and their escorts - the Queen Maryse and some twenty-five guards - intimidated a little at first sight, but no more than the long, interplanetary journey that had lain before them some five years ago. Two small children had just arrived on the island-planet of Lasan after covering hundreds of light-years from their home sphere of Chlosei. The young travellers were exhausted from the trip, yet they still had to travel cross-planet to the capital kingdom of Lasan, and the plantation-castle called The House of Valentine there, before their journey could end. One small head of wavy, brown hair shivered noticeably from both excitement and the chill of the north, while another filled with already cynical, emerald eyes, took in their surroundings with an air of boredom and mistrust. As they entered the grand hall of the castle, a cold blast of wind slammed shut the castle doors, sending the brown-haired child into a hurriedly-hushed shriek of alarm. At the far end of the long hall, Prince Jace, the son, a young boy of six years, rolled his eyes.

Queen Maryse gracefully guided her two small charges towards the throne.

"Now little ones, I want you on your best manners; bow, curtsy, don't speak unless you are spoken to and above all," she cast a warning glance towards the auburn-haired child, "no pranks."

The little girl's eyes widened significantly with feigned innocence, but not before a wholly devilish smirk formed on her tiny mouth that made the Queen dread the approaching introduction. "Um, sure Aunt Maryse, whatever you say."

As they arrived at the throne the King and Prince took in the small troupe. The Queen stepped forward and curtsied courteously to the King, then motioned the two little children to follow suit.

"This is Simon Lewis, Prince of the Eastern Planetary Kingdom, Chlosei, and my nephew."

The little boy with the wavy brown hair edged forward timidly, gave a deep bow to both the King and Prince, then scooted backwards behind the Queen as fast as he could.

"And this is Clary Fray, his friend, and my new ward."

The other child with the auburn and tousled curls stepped to the front boldly, met the eyes of the Prince with her own unwavering glare, and gave a mock bow from the hips to the King, her eyes never once leaving the Prince's. She could hear the Aunt's sigh of exasperation and she smirked. Like hell she was going to curtsy. She took a step back, extremely pleased with herself.

"Little ones, it is quite a pleasure making your acquaintance." King Valentine's big and burly voice echoed throughout the silent hall.

"Same here Sir," quipped Clary. Maryse's grip on the girl's shoulder tightened significantly.

"The children are tired my Liege; they have travelled from very far away and I would like to see them to bed now . . . if that is alright."

"Yes Maryse, of course it is. See them in immediately."

"Sire," she nodded in respect, before escorting the children to their chambers.

Prince Jace's eyes followed the girl Clary. What kind of little girl bowed like a man and voluntarily spoke to Valentine? She meant obvious trouble. He did not like it at all. His father seemed slightly amused and his mother seemed . . . like she could use a little help. Maybe he should keep an eye on that girl, make sure she stayed in line. Somebody had to do it, and as Prince and heir to the throne, who better for the job than him?

* * *

"But Aunt Maryse, you said to speak if you are spoken to and that is what I did!" Clary's high-pitched voice reached a deafening crescendo belying the agitation felt at being bombarded with yet another lecture on social graces and etiquette. The children were now in their room, where Maryse was helping them to get settled for the night.

"Clary, will you please lower your voice!" Maryse reprimanded. "I know what I said, and the problem is not that you spoke to the King, the problem is the casual informality with which you chose to do so!"

"Well I said Sir! _So_ sorry that I am not the uptight, ass plug that you would have me be!"

"Young lady, you better had watch your language or else!"

"You know what Aunt Maryse? I'm _not_ a lady, I am an obvious problem for you and as such maybe it would be best if I just left and went back home to Chlosei!"

Maryse crossed the room towards the defiant little girl and raised her chin with a gentle hand. It was extremely hard to believe that she was only six years old sometimes.

"_Clary_, I don't want you to leave unless you want to leave, what I want you to do is to behave."

"But I don't know how," came the sullen reply.

"Aunt Maryse?" the soft voice came from the corner.

"Yes Simon?"

"Isn't asking Clary to behave asking her to not be true to herself?"

Maryse sighed. She could see that she was getting nowhere and it was getting late.

"Okay you guys. Let's agree to disagree for tonight okay?"

"Alright, Aunt Maryse," Clary scooted backwards onto the mountain of pillows at the head of her bed, "G'night."

Simon snuggled under his covers in the twin bed opposite Clary's. "Goodnight, Aunt Maryse."

"And a fair goodnight to you my loves," Maryse replied as she swept out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

"Simon?"

"Yes Clary?"

"Thanks."

"It's nothing . . . Ow!" Simon muffled his cry with his blanket, assessing in the semidarkness the huge pillow that had just assailed him. Clary's own muffled laughter erupted from across the room.

"Sorry . . . old habits die hard."

Simon sighed as he leaned down and grabbed the pillow off the floor.

"I see. Well I guess that's just one more pillow for me then. Goodnight Clary."

"Goodnight."

* * *

The children awoke to sharp and persistent knocking on their chamber door.

"Come in please," Simon called, sitting up in bed.

Clary groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, falling directly back to sleep. If she were in charge, early rising would be a felony.

The young Prince entered the room dramatically. Simon's mouth dropped slightly open.

"I am here to summon you to first meal. Be ready as soon as possible. I will be escorting you to the dining hall and I shall not be kept waiting."

Clary flew up at the sound of the voice. Refraining from making a face at the haughty little boy, she asked with forced politeness, "Excuse me, but where is Aunt Maryse?"

"In the future," he deliberated, taking her in with cold eyes, "you will address me as my Prince, your Highness or your Majesty, and where my mother is, is none of your business."

Clary bit the inside of her lip so as not to curse. "Damn brat has issues," she muttered under her breath as she slid out of bed.

"Excuse me?" Jace said pointedly.

"Yes?" Clary said pointedly.

Simon watched as the two stood off facing each other, neither moving, tension escalating in the room.

"Cousin Jace, may we be excused so that we may be ready for first meal on time?"

Jace turned his gaze on Simon, "What did you just call me?"

Clary erupted. "Your mother gave him permission to call you that! What exactly is your problem? . . . Your _Highness_," she finished with sweet sarcasm.

"How dare _you_ speak to me with such disrespect!" he demanded.

"How dare _you_ treat him that way? He is your cousin and a prince and -"

"And you are nothing but trash my mother picked up off-course. What's your point?"

Clary flew at him and dealt him a hard slap across his face. Jace's eyes widened significantly before they narrowed in silent threat.

"You are going to regret that," he said quietly.

"And you are obnoxious. What's _your_ point?" Clary countered.

Simon stood by at a complete loss as to what to do. He hated when Clary got mad or upset. It made her reckless, rash and unpredictable.

"Prince Jace we are all going to be late if we don't get moving now," he reminded again, trying to divert their attention away from killing each other.

Again Jace turned his gaze to Simon. "I'll be outside." Glancing back towards Clary, he turned and walked out.

"What a friggin' loser," Clary grounded out, before turning around and heading for her personal Lavat to refresh herself. "He definitely has esteem problems."

"You shouldn't have hit him, Clary. He could make life here hard for both of us if he wants."

"For you maybe, but I'd pummel him into the ground before he could . . ."

"No! He is the Prince. Even if he is our age we must show him the same level of respect we show to the King."

"Fuck _that_."

"_Clary_ . . . stop swearing."

"It's time to get ready. We are already late."

Simon sighed and turned to walk into his own Lavat. It was going to be a very long, very interesting stay here at the House of Valentine. He just hoped he could survive it.

* * *

"Ah . . . here they are." Maryse's relief was obvious as she motioned the two children to sit by her side. "Where were you? I was about to send someone looking."

"Um . . . we are very sorry to be late," Simon said. "I couldn't decide what to wear."

It was then Maryse looked up and saw her son sitting on the right hand of his father and noticed the bruise on his cheek. Looking back towards the children she noticed Simon's own reddening cheeks and Clary's stealthy avoidance in meeting her gaze.

"I see. We will talk later."

Aware of Maryse's disappointment the two children nodded and so first meal began; a relatively uneventful meal, except for Clary and Jace shooting daggers at each other in a silent waging of war.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you again for taking the time to read this story! It**** is half-way complete, and so I will be adding a new chapter twice a month until it is finished. That way there will not be a seemingly indefinite wait between what has been written already and what remains for me to write. If I complete this story before I share what I have written thus far, I will upload everything at once. Either way, it means we will be together for a long time. **Kindly review and tell me how you feel about my reimagining of Clary and Jace! I look forward to your feedback, and eagerly anticipate your responses :3


	2. It Started to Rain

**A/N: I do not own Mortal Instruments, or the names of its characters. I do however own my characters as are written in this story, and this story itself. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**"… it started to rain."**

* * *

When they got back to their room, Maryse rounded on them.

"What happened?"

"Well . . ." Simon began, still searching his mind for a plausible alibi.

"My fault Aunt Maryse," Clary confessed. "Didn't like how Jace was treating Simon, and when I stood up for him he . . . he . . ."

"He said something inappropriate to her Aunt Maryse," Simon interjected.

Maryse's gaze shifted between the two; she crossed her arms.

"And what did he say?"

Clary's eyes hardened at the memory and she looked away.

"He called her . . . trash and . . ."

Maryse took in Simon's pained expression and Clary stony visage, and exhaled.

"And she hit him," she guessed. Simon nodded slowly, his eyes searching for a clue as to what Maryse was thinking.

"Children come with me." Maryse said, walking out the door. Glancing at each other the two followed her down the long passageway, turning up onto a different level of apartments, the third of which they stepped into.

"This is my own private apartment and no one is allowed here unless I wish them to be, not even the King. I brought you here to tell you both a great secret, one you must never tell another soul. You must never talk about it, not even amongst yourselves. Promise me this."

"I promise Aunt Maryse," Simon vowed.

"I promise," Clary gave her word.

Maryse nodded. "The secret is my story, about what happened to me, a royal child at sixteen years of age, betrothed and pregnant on my home sphere of Jinnland so many years ago.

* * *

_Seven years earlier. 8731 FA_

_ Sphere Jinnland. Palace Jarvis_

"Maryse! Maryse! Awaken! We are under attack!"

The young girl of sixteen flew awake in a panic.

"What?!" she brushed her dark, sleep-tousled hair out of her horrified face as she scrambled out of bed.

Alyssa, the young servant girl who had just rushed into the room, ran over to the princess' wardrobes, pulling out a thick night robe which she flung frantically towards her. Maryse caught it with trembling hands and donned it hurriedly over her sheer night dress as she slipped into sandals. Alyssa grabbed her fear-frozen hands as they ran out of the room and down the corridor towards the main hall.

"The House of Valentine has just formally declared war on Jinnland. A fleet of over three million orbs has surrounded us and we are asked to surrender. No one can leave to get any help. Your father has just summoned all the Shadowhunters to erect a force field to keep them at bay and was currently trying to gain audience with King Valentine, but has been denied." Alyssa paused in her running to catch her breath. She met Maryse's gaze directly. "It doesn't look good."

Too many thoughts were racing through Maryse's mind. From where would they obtain help? Jinnland was such a small and reserved sphere in such a desolate part of the spiral. The Goddesses were involuted, and no one could leave without the guarantee of being blown away mid-flight. She could feel her despair rising, and she inhaled deeply to calm her riotous nerves. "My father will not win, will he?" she reflected aloud. "He has been negotiating with Valentine for months, but that bastard will not be satisfied until Jinnland comes under his name . . . and we do not have the resources to stop him. _El_, why can he not just leave us alone?"

Alyssa nodded her head is agreement. "We have to go." They picked up the pace again until Maryse stopped abruptly, "Where is Robert?"

Alyssa frowned in confusion. "He is with the rest of the Shadowhunters. Why?"

Maryse bit her lip in indecision. Alyssa was her closest companion despite their difference in station and it looked as though they might not even survive this together. What was one more secret between two friends?

"Robert and I have become . . . lovers." Maryse's cheeks coloured at Alyssa's gasp of shock and consternation.

"Maryse! You were supposed to wait until marriage!" came the reprimanding whisper.

Maryse looked chagrined as she scoped the area anxiously. "Shh! We are in a crisis; does everyone need to know about that _now?_ Too besides, we are young and in love and are going to be married anyway."

Alyssa shook her head in disbelief. "I do not want to be there when your father finds out."

Maryse's face fell sombre as they continued to make their way to the hall, "Let us hope we survive this so that you may have that option."

* * *

"When we arrived at the hall we remained in the shadows listening, watching and waiting. The scene which unravelled before us was gory to say the very least. I shall not go into any details. It is enough to say that one severely injured, bleeding Shadowhunter was allowed bare survival in order to tell my father, Jarvis, the King of Jinnland, that nearly all of the population was completely wiped out. With no one left to defend the royal family, Valentine was on his way to claim my father's throne. . . It is amazing how a few words so softly whispered could fill a person with such insurmountable fear and dread. He fell dead the moment he uttered them and then … it started to rain."

* * *

Castle doors flung wide with the deafening slam of finality. Lasanian troops filed in and surrounded King Jarvis while others charged onward into the interior of the castle resolute upon capturing the remainder of the royal family. Someone had yet to notice two young girls pressed fearfully behind the gigantic pillar in the corner by the staircase.

"Where are the others?" Maryse whispered softly, afraid to even breathe.

"Your father sent them to a ship after he learnt about the deaths of the Shadowhunters," Alyssa whispered back, peering into the dark space between pillar and wall, fearful that any moment now it would be filled with a Lasanian soldier. "I am supposed to take you there as soon as the coast is clear."

"Have you been in contact with him all this time?" Maryse asked.

"Yes . . . and now that they are in here you have to be very mindful of when one is approaching. Search well for nearing thoughts."

Maryse nodded as they turned back to the scene in the hall.

Guards had chained Jarvis of Jinnland to his throne and had him within range of their weapons. Several minutes passed until eventually more troops filed in, this time surrounding their own King, Valentine.

"It did not have to come to this Jarvis," Valentine began slowly. "I had only wanted to combine the demonology of my people with the angelic might of your own. Now I have to ask you … Was this," he asked gesturing to the dead Shadowhunter on the floor, "really worth opposing my idea?"

"That's rot Valentine, and you know it. You had no interest in combining our power towards a mutually beneficial life for our people. You wanted to enslave my people and exploit their powers for your own financial gain." Jarvis bowed his head as he grounded out the words, "Even though I grieve my loss … I still take great pleasure in knowing that now you will never be able to succeed with your diabolical plans."

"What loss Jarvis? You have lost nothing. For daring to oppose me, for depriving me of what I wanted, I now bestow upon you the honour of joining your people in the dark realm. And just to sweeten the journey for you before you leave, I have the honour of bearing to you this news. Your near-deployed family members have been captured and, I'm afraid, are just as dead as the rest of your Shadowhunters."

_No_, Maryse put her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from yelling out. She felt Alyssa's comforting thought waves, and leaned back against her friend, even as she pushed them away.

Surprisingly, and much to the rage of Valentine, Jarvis showed very little reaction. He stared resolutely ahead of him, and would not grace the tyrant with a single word. Valentine, a bit baffled, would not let his revenge be dampened as he sneered maliciously at the man before him.

"Struck dumb I see. Kill him." He issued the soft command at the nearest guard.

_Father_, Maryse practically yelled the thought, _you must save yourself. Use the _Braegan Satyr_._

_ Maryse, _said the strong voice in her mind that she knew to be her father, _I am trying to save you. The longer I remain alive, the longer the bastard lingers in this place and the lesser a chance you have to escape. I want you to live. Avenge me if you will, when you are grown and you are strong enough to do so, but for now remain hidden in the shadows my love. I cannot use the _Braegan Satyr_ without risking being killed by one of their weapons …_

_ Father, surely me and Alyssa could help you, we are not that weak. We could make them destroy their weapons …_

_ Maryse, _the thought came as a gentle reprimand, _I know this isn't what you want to hear and I am not proud of it, but I am a King without a throne, or a people … without purpose. There is no longer any reason for me to remain in this realm._

_ Yes there is father. What about me? I do not want to be left alone._

_ Maryse, you are not alone … I am sorry about Robert. He told me about the two of you. At first I wanted to kill him, now I am very glad I didn't. Take good care Maryse. I love you._

_ Father please … _The connection was abruptly severed. Maryse slowly lifted her head up to see a soldier withdraw a spear from her father's body.

_No._

"No!"

Valentine started at the sound of the horrified scream, as a frantic young woman ran from among the shadows towards the fallen body of the slain king. Guards brandished their weapons menacingly in her direction, but she rushed passed them, ripping the delicate skin of her shoulder on the sharp point of one guard's spear, to kneel at her dying father's side.

Her father gazed upon her with a pained and terrified countenance.

"Maryse . . ." his tone dismayed, "you . . . you should have stayed . . . hidden."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, cradling him to her torso. How could such a great man be made to feel so frail in the space of such little time? He said he lacked purpose now. Perhaps purpose had been the source of his strength. Feeling him fade away from her, Maryse whispered "I love you," before he departed forever, settling his vacant frame tenderly onto the floor.

Valentine signalled a guard to seize her, and bring her to face him.

"Who are you girl?" he said with unconcealed apathy.

"How _dare_ you do this?" Maryse screamed hysterically into his face. Her eyes pierced him with accusation and condemnation, "How _could_ you?"

Valentine fixed her with a contemptible glance, before turning away. "Politics, of course. What else?"

"Your Majesty," called a guard to Valentine, "I found her hiding behind the pillar by the staircase."

The guard threw Alyssa down before the feet of the King. Maryse moved to go to her, but was stopped by warning looks from all.

_Maryse, _Alyssa's voice sounded in her head urgently, _Do not allow that man to know who you are unless your life depends on it. For all we know he may kill you for being your father's daughter. Say nothing unless you must._

_I will not speak it until I have to,_ Maryse promised. _I must save us, Lyssa, but how?_

"You two wouldn't happen to be chatting on my time, would you?" Valentine asked disparagingly. "Kill them. After all, the majority of their people are dead. There is no reason to keep them alive."

* * *

"Before I could react, his men murdered Alyssa." Maryse shook the memories around in her head, trying desperately to escape their outstretched hands, clawing and clinging to what was left of her ravished mind. Shoving them down into the bowels of her psyche, she made herself focus on the children and the present before she continued.

* * *

"_No,_" Maryse's horrified whisper echoed throughout the hall. She could not bear it. She felt as though she were going out of her mind. She snapped. Focussing all her angelic energy on Valentine, she felt her body resonate with a scorching sensation as she began to emanate the _Braegan Satyr_. The might with which the force of the angelic blast hit the King was so powerful it shook the walls until they crumbled and cracked, and shattered the glass of the windows, and smashed the wood of the doors. More than half of the guards in the room were wiped out, some of them rendered unconscious, while the ones closest to her were left in a catatonic state. Valentine however remained unaffected as more guards entered the room in response to the commotion Maryse's attack had created. Exhausting all her energies, the young princess fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"Your Majesty?" a guard questioned. The King did not seem fazed even though the room was coming down around them. He stirred from his contemplations, casting a slightly annoyed glance at the guard for the interruption. "What should we do with her?"

"I wonder who she is," Valentine said irritably, taking in the girl's beauty with an air of distaste, "I'm not quite sure what to do with her." Looking around him at the deteriorating condition of the building he added, "And I don't have all the time in the universe to figure it out either."

A guard knelt on the ground beside Maryse to examine the gash in her shoulder. The spear she had lanced herself on had torn right through a tattoo of the kingdom's insignia there.

"Your Highness, she is one of the royal children!" the guard exclaimed.

"Indeed," Valentine proffered, a hint of interest glinting in his eyes. "Then by all means bring her with us. We leave this sphere immediately. Several thousand of you will stay behind to secure my new lands. How fitting, that it was one of our spears that sliced through that irritating symbol. It could almost signify a new beginning for her, couldn't it? . . . That will be all, guard."

* * *

"And it was. They brought me here. This is why I got so upset with you when you spoke to Valentine, child," Maryse said softly to Clary. "He is an evil man. I need you to promise me that you will both be very careful around him, for he is not to be trusted, and would harm even the very young. He cares nothing about preservation of a child's innocence. He cares nothing for anything other than himself."

"We promise Aunt Maryse," the children vowed in unison.

"Good," Maryse said, beaming at them both, trying to hide her feelings, shaken from reliving the sordid experiences of her past. "Now do you remember how I told you I was pregnant? Suffice to say, Jace is the son of Robert. However he does not know this and it is by far the biggest secret of all. I trust in you children to keep this secret for me, and to understand that the way Jace is, and who he will become, is never his fault. You must try to understand and accept him, and forgive the things he says and does; for me, if no one else."

"Why doesn't he know, Aunt Maryse?" Simon questioned, perturbed.

"Because Valentine said he would kill him if I told him the truth. He doesn't want Jace to know of his heritage until he has firmly moulded him into his own image. When that time comes, I am to begin his Shadowhunter training, and with his help, Valentine will strengthen his armies' demonology, which was his plan all along. For right now Valentine trains him to fight and to hate. A part of me would rather him die than to be that man's son, but I am selfish. I love my son. He is my very last connection to all that I have lost, and I can_not _lose him as well."

A sombre silence settled over the three in Maryse's apartment. The children were astounded by all they had heard, and instinctively moved toward Maryse when she offered them her embrace.

"Promise me you will be kind to Jace, please, for me?"

"I promise Aunt Maryse," Simon vowed.

"As do I," Clary said gravely.

"Oh my children, I love you. With any luck you can thwart the awful influence Valentine has had over him thus far. He knows I love him, but for a young boy of only six years he is so withdrawn, so serious and reserved. I know he could be a nicer child. Sometimes he can be rather sweet in his own way, but I miss his happiness. When he was born he was such a delight, and now he is so dour it's worrying me to distraction. We can't let that man ruin my boy. We cannot let Valentine win, not with Jace. Perhaps, with your help, I can make my son laugh again."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Constructive criticism, honest ratings and well-deserved praise are all welcome here ^_^ Thanks again!**


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**A/N: I do not own Mortal Instruments, or the names of its characters. I do however own my characters as are written in this story, and this story itself. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**"… the calm before the storm."**

* * *

During the following weeks, the children and the Prince stealthily avoided each other. The dawning after the incident between Clary and Jace, and Maryse's recount of her horrific past, a guard had been sent in place of the Prince to escort the children to their meals and around the plantation-castle and grounds. While the children settled into the routine of their new life, Jace continued training as though his new house mates did not even exist, as though nothing at all had changed. A semblance of relative normalcy returned to the plantation, but to young and intuitive Simon, it was as the calm before the storm.

"Mother," an impatient and exasperated little boy's voice sounded from within the Prince's closet, where he was rummaging for his armour for his daily sparring with his father's guards. "I do not have time to waste hanging out with two, insignificant, Shadowhunter . . . _brats,_" he spat out disdainfully, as he yanked a wayward steel-tipped boot from under a pile of boyhood debris.

"_Jace_ . . ." Maryse's voice was soothing, "they have been here for weeks and you haven't so much as conversed with either one of them . . . I just thought it would be nice if . . ."

"And why should I?" he cut her off rudely, "They are of no consequence to me whatsoever." Regarding his mother with eyes clouded over with mulishness and love, he reiterated, "I have more important, pressing matters at hand that need to be seen to immediately."

"Such as?" Maryse asked pointedly, her eyes clouded over with frustration and her own love for the boy before her.

"Such as training with my father," Jace said just as pointedly.

"And afterward?"

"Sleeping," he grounded out. Taking in her disappointment, Jace felt something almost imperceptible shift within him. Eyes cast down he heaved an exaggerated sigh, as though agreeing to spend time with the children was the worst condemnation that he could ever be faced with, as though it were the biggest sacrifice he would ever have to make. "After that I have more training . . . and Father only allows me an hour to myself every day. It's my own time when I can do whatever I want. I'll see how I feel later about spending some of it . . . very little of it . . . with those stu . . . with those children."

Bracing himself against the warmth of his mother's heartfelt embrace, he pulled away quickly, heaving his armour under one small, muscular arm and said, "I have to go now."

"Goodbye, love. Enjoy your day," Maryse's smile flashed before she added, "and thank you for spending time with the children."

Jace nodded briefly towards her before vacating his room.

* * *

Jace tried to remember his mother's glowing face when he half-agreed to seek out the children during his one free hour in the day, and he grimaced. He may not have solemnly vowed, but he could not shake feeling compelled to follow through with it. He knew his mother would do anything for him and even though he was aware that his father would say it should not matter, he felt that he had to. Ease was never a priority for him. He had been taught to revel in challenge, and could never let his uneasiness over being with two small children get the best of him ... ever.

"Ah well . . . if you must . . . you must," he muttered to himself, scuffing the floor with his boot, and wandering down an immense hallway, away from the training rooms to find the children.

They did not happen to be together that day. Jace had breathed a sigh of palpable relief when he had discovered Simon alone in their room, sound asleep. He thought about telling his mother that he had put in a valiant effort, but he was not one for embracing cowardice, so he headed outside to see if he could find Clary on the grounds.

Clary was the one of the two children of which he was the most wary . . . and curious. He thought her common, and therefore found it irksome when she carried herself with such an air of superiority, especially in his presence.

Nevertheless, he admired the spirit of any who would stand up to the Prince of Lasan without so much as blinking an eye in fear. And he had promised to keep an eye on her, after all. His interest in her, however, was only anything really when compared to his regard for his younger cousin, whom he cared nothing for at all.

Clary was off in the gully northeast of the plantation-castle tending to a very big secret. She had been working on it ever since she had sworn to Maryse that she would be kind to the Prince. Later that day, she had gone walking alone in the gully, wondering how she would keep that promise to her guardian.

She lighted upon the idea that it would make more sense to do one, very big, very good deed, and then limit her future interactions to the Prince to neutral, unless the situation warranted something more. The very next day she had happened across that very big, very good deed, and had spent the last six weeks preparing it for Jace, all the while trying to stave off her misgivings about handing such a gift over to someone so decided on indifference and cruelty at such a young age.

She had wanted to keep her find for herself, and for Simon, but once the idea crossed her mind to give it to the Prince, she could not let it go. She thought that today would be a good day to show her amity towards him by turning over her keepsake, so with one last look at her discovery she wandered off towards the plantation-castle in search of Jace.

* * *

"Hello girl," Jace said snidely as Clary walked obliviously by him, on her way back to the plantation-castle. His mother had insisted he spend time with them but he drew the line at being civil. Incensed at being so obviously caught off guard, Clary concealed her start by narrowing her emerald eyes at Jace in warning before issuing her equally unpleasant response of "Hello boy."

The two stared each other down, before simultaneously coming to the conclusion that looking at the other was just a pointless waste of their time and looked away. Jace did not feel like telling her why he was there and Clary was having third and fourth thoughts about why she should have to part with her treasure for a certifiable brat like Jace. Maryse's face flashed before both their eyes.

"I'm here to hang out," Jace admitted reluctantly. Clary's shock was visible on her face before she schooled her expression to neutral bearing and nodded.

"Come with me then," she invited before turning around and walking through the path that she had just come from, heading back towards the north-eastern gully.

Jace followed the small girl hesitantly through the trees.

Approaching a clearing, Clary looked back to make sure that he was still behind her. Stepping aside, she allowed him entry into the thicket, before walking over to gently touch the coarse pearl-grey of the creature's coat. Light fingers combed carelessly through thick fur, the touch soft, meant to still the startled form, to soothe the hostile snarl. Her hand, a delicate, tiny thing, reached up a mere fraction of its towering leg.

The three prongs of a bony trident, eight feet in length, raptorial as a chela, emerged from its flattened forehead, lowered and primed for the attack. Spanning the width of the copse, massive, membranous wings webbed between three talons and limbs and dusted with smoky, silvery down, flared and rattled a warning. Three tails, a gigantic fur-coated fan, spread and held erect from one end of the small clearing to the other, lashed around its body in frenzied, disconcerted directions, in reaction to the stranger.

Standing before them, an arresting eleven foot, eight hundred pound frame of muscle magnified by aggravation, the beast, who was once unwell due to infected muscle tissue from a nasty and inexplicable gash on the underside of its stomach, was finally well enough to become restless in the confinement of the tiny space between the trees in which Clary had discovered it dwelling and had cared for it.

The upheaval of the ground by the pacing of its massive paws confirmed what she had been suspecting for days now. Yet, unsure of how to handle an animal so much larger than herself, and not wanting to let on to anyone that she could not deal with the situation, she had put it off for as long as possible. It had to be moved.

Heavy, powerful, lupine eyes, hard with aggression, flicked warily towards the intruder, tempered only by the affection felt for the small child stroking its paw. The air around them crackled, surcharged with confusion and barely leashed chaos. Clary felt dismayed at the distrust she felt directed towards _her_, and wondered if her good deed wasn't truly just a bad idea. The thought that her very first friend on this foreign sphere believed that she had betrayed it in some, small way almost broke her heart. Now neither Jace nor the creature seemed to remember that she stood between them, and she could do nothing but watch as they sized each other up.

It was the first time Jace had seen one outside of a book, and it was the first time the creature had faced a human other than Clary. Jace cast a suspicious glance at her for an explanation before returning his eyes to the animal's.

"Been taking care of him for weeks now," she explained, "Fairly sure it's a him, but I don't know what he is, where he came from or how he got injured in the first place. Found him here and he had that when I did," she said pointing to the healed gash on the underside of the animal. "He's for you … from me," she added when Jace glanced at her again for clarification.

He almost choked, but covered it well with a cough to clear his throat. He did not know what to say. The creature before him awed him, yet he felt a constriction in his mind at the idea of thanking anyone for anything. His unease slipped back in, a familiar friend that did not seem to have really left at all.

"He's a lucen." He looked at Clary then, tense and perturbed. "That was … decent of you," he proffered, trying not to ruin the gift, disappoint his mother, himself, and for some strange reason the little girl before him. "… I'm supposed to say thank …"

"No need for all of that," Clary said, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand, "… Be yourself." She paused before reaching out that hand to offer another amicable gesture. Jace paused before reaching out to grasp it briefly. "Just decide who you want _yourself_ to be, that's all."

Jace momentarily contemplated this novel concept before storing it away to examine in detail later.

"Meanwhile," Clary continued, "help me find a way to move this guy, will you? This space has become too small for him now that he's better. We need to find a bigger, more suitable place to keep him … _Are_ you going to keep him though?" It suddenly dawned on her that he might not like her good deed even though he appeared to appreciate her doing it.

The quick nod of affirmation he sent her way was all that was needed to lay her concern to rest.

"Good stuff," she said flippantly, while exhaling a small sigh of relief. Her good deed had come off without a hitch.

"Of course as heir to the throne of Lasan, he would have been mine anyway," Jace boasted, tossing her a mean, teasing little smirk intended to make her glower, which, of course, it did.

* * *

**A/N: Review please! Thank you ^_^**


	4. The Key to Who You Were

**A/N: I do not own Mortal Instruments, or the names of its characters. I do however own my characters as are written in this story, and this story itself. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**"… the key to who you were …"**

* * *

The next day during his one free hour, Jace embarked with Clary to explore the gully surrounding the plantation-castle. Simon excused himself from the venture averring that he would much rather spend time indoors reading on the history of magickal philosophy. Jace and Clary walked side by side in sociable silence for hours on end, covering the gully in all directions around the House of Valentine.

Coming around a broad bend in the natural pathway, Clary was overwhelmed by the marvel of the wooded vale enfolding them. Daylight dappled damp, moss-carpeted gully floor, deep green captivating, casting strange shadows and silhouettes. Quieting the living chatter of the hollow crevasse, a gentle breath of wind stirred and swirled, whisking eddies of falling leaves up and all around the boy and the girl. Ledges leading downward into sculpted stairways snaked sinuously through tall trees growing from jagged crags on either side of the spacious path.

The fetid stench of soil strewn with waste and decay from animals and insects and plants coalesced with the intense, intoxicating spice of vine-ripened fruit mingled with the stronger, sweeter scents of myriad orchid blossoms. Bridging murky grey-green waters of stagnant swamps and putrid pools, giant rock formations bore two young children farther into the inviting interior of warm, balmy gully. Petals of lush, liquid hue, from dark crimson to bright cerulean, from deep, heavy gold to fresh, frosted violets, drenched the earth, the waters and the day with their beauty.

Crooked, contorted branches, entangled and intertwined, created clambering canopies through which the pale light of the daytime moon could be diffused. A circus of tiny, creeping insects swarmed the swamp's smooth surface only to sink suddenly, silently beneath its obscure depths, leaving behind a single ripple in their wake to spread across its deceptive and deadly façade, betraying presence. This was an untamed, untouched landscape of dark and windswept places ... that held secrets ... that hid spectres ... that hung the very key to who you were on a jewelled choker about its neck.

Caves and caverns inconsiderable for the scale of the lucen staggered across the face of the chasm's cliffs. Tiny reptiles, their rough, scaly skins shimmering, sour yellow speckled with bits of black and brown, scurried away into the heart of the land, the tips of their tails and toes and rows of ribbed spines luminescent sparks of organic light. The filmy layer of their featureless faces secreting perfect replicas of Clary's and Jace's, remained hidden and unseen in that awakening world. Undulating under the power of the breeze, the plumes of palms shyly scratched the soft air like innocent, inhibited lovers.

_Eliads_ and ferns, elevated and rootless, hung growing on the silken atmosphere. Their fronds and flora, large and lustrous, moved to a mysterious song, a serpentine charm. It was an enchanted place ... enigmatic ... enthralling, lovelier than dream. Before them giant, tree-like beings arose from the bed of the gorge and watched their approach. The older ones, wizened and crotchety-looking, allowed the wind to help them bend over just a little bit more in order to get a better look at the tiny beings all the way down by their roots. Jace recognised them from his natural environment books and his studies of the indigenous plant life of Lasan. Clary stared in awe at the sight.

These were Moars, their gleaming, luminous eyes catching the light of the moon, identical hollows set high in their trunks beneath their soaring branches. Tripping several times over the roots of three of them much to his chagrin, Jace nearly screamed when the trunks of the beings shifted and split and cracked into unmistakable smiles, revealing yellowed, toothy bark. The Moars shook and wobbled, tickled to death, erupting into happy, high-pitched giggles. Clary gasped and stopped mid-step as their roots rose up out of the ground, only to settle comfortably back down into the soil, only to succeed in sending Jace tumbling and falling once again.

Suddenly unable to help herself, Clary's own laugh exploded from within her and soon both her and the Moars where doubled over in a frenzy of tears and sap and the sporadic stomping of feet and roots in mirth at Jace's upset. Jace scrambled away from the roots with as much dignity as he could muster, hoisting his little nose as high into the air as it would go, arms crossed, legs set apart in the typical stance of displeased, six year old, male royalty - which only made everyone else laugh all the harder. Bemused, embarrassed and disdainful, Jace inexplicably fought the urge to give into he did not know what when one of the younger Moars bent all the way over to the very floor of the gully and lifted him up into its branches.

Clary almost screamed herself when she saw the corner of Jace's mouth turn upward, forming an actual smile, even though the boy seemed completely unaware of what was happening to his face; and suppressed the urge to climb up the Moar to him and insist they return to the plantation-castle for a healer to examine him fully at once. Aware he was looking down at her looking up at him still smirking obliviously, Clary looked away, still in shock, and a little uncomfortable.

"We must continue our search now," Jace decreed, when the Moar had set him down to the ground. Gazing down the path which just led to even more gully, he said, "We still have the north-western woods to cover before our exploration can be concluded. If we can't find any place to stash the lucen there, we are going to have to tell my mother about him when we get home."

Clary nodded in affirmation, and they moved on. Just before they disappeared around the bend ahead, she glanced back at the Moars waving goodbye, a smile gracing her lips at her remembered jollity. Jace scowled at her smiling, his own smirk long since gone as he forged forward, taking the lead into the trees. Shaking her head, completely floored by the confounding boy in front of her, Clary plunged into the trees behind him.

_Don't even know where he's going_, she muttered to herself in her mind.

Up ahead, Jace smirked and remained silent as he walked on through the green.

* * *

"So … what're you going to call him?" Clary asked, sending a sidelong glance at the prince, who finally deigned to let her walk beside him since he did not know the way through the gully.

"Hmm?" Jace glanced at her before turning his head away and back to his thoughts.

"The lucen … have you thought of a name for him yet?" Clary sighed; trying to talk to this boy was like a punishment no one deserved.

Jace paused, then continued to walk. A delicate frown graced his brow, the scowl marring his face settling immediately into its comfortable, already permanent position, indicating that he had not. He shook his head in negation.

"Well what about . . ."

"He's my lucen; I'm the one who is going to name him, and that's final," he said sharply, turning on her so suddenly Clary had to stop walking just to manually check the urge to hit him like she had so many weeks before.

_Damn brat has more mood swings than a menopausal _bitch, she thought to herself, giving him a look that said quite clearly 'watch it or else', before falling back into step beside him.

"Fine," she muttered, pressing on ahead. Jace narrowed his eyes at the widening distance between him and her fast-disappearing back and quickened his steps to keep up with her strides. When he finally did catch her, her darkened green eyes wouldn't even so much as take him in. The stiff, angry walk, her auburn hair flipping with every step as if it too was silently swearing at him, told him the only thing he needed to know. Clary was pissed.

Jace sighed in frustration. He hadn't meant to snap at her, but the moment the name she had thought for the lucen entered his mind, he couldn't think of a better one himself, which irritated him to no end. Now she wasn't even so much as speaking to him. For once he understood why something was his fault.

"What about Eleon?" he exhaled, looking at her innocently enough. Clary paused mid-step before continuing on her way as though she hadn't even heard him. Between them a piercing silence left Jace's ears ringing.

"That's nice," Clary said softly. Knowing he must have read her mind, she felt somewhat touched he would go with the name she had chosen, rather than stubbornly refusing to go with anything he himself had not personally selected.

_I guess he's more like Maryse than I thought_, she mused, making her way through quiet trees.

And it was now Jace's turn to be somewhat touched.

* * *

**A/N: Explored a little world-building and mind-reading in this chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you very much for reviewing and telling me what you think! ^_^**


	5. Deceptively Devoid

**A/N: I do not own Mortal Instruments, or the names of its characters. I do however own my characters as are written in this story, and this story itself. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**"… deceptively devoid …"**

* * *

_ Four years later. 8742 FA_

_ Sphere Lasan. House of Valentine_

"I _know_, Clar. I've thought about it. But you _need_ to stop. You know we aren't allowed to talk about it. Do _not_ _test_ her on this one. Don't you understand? We will all suffer if you pursue it," Simon charged.

Clary had never seen her friend this aggravated in all of their six years together. Dousing the desire to snap something rude she dragged her hands down her face, gently gripping the skin of her jaw line, before turning away with a sigh of lingering frustration.

"You know I can't," came the insistent demand.

"No, I know you _won't_," Simon countered.

"What I don't understand is why you won't!"

Simon observed Clary, before softly replying, "Because it is dangerous. Because we were told not to. Because the people we care about could be harmed beyond repair if we don't leave it alone. Because I don't want us to get into trouble and be sent away. Because I like it here, and I want to stay." He paused. "Because I don't want to."

Clary's foot began tapping the floor with an intermittent and irregular tick belying her agitation at the words she was hearing.

"Don't you think I know that? I don't want to leave here either. But there _must_ be a reason why, and if we could find out what that reason is, if we could find out _how_ he did it, then maybe we can set them both free forever. Isn't that worth it? How can you say you care about Maryse or Jace when you are so afraid you're unwilling to even bloody act!"

Simon's eyes narrowed in anger and irritation. "Stop yelling at me!"

Clary dead stopped in the middle of her tirade. Simon, her quiet, soft-spoken, painfully-shy Simon, had just yelled back at her. A sudden, beaming grin swept her face.

"Well look at you. Didn't think ya had it in ya."

Simon's face flushed before turning away. "I do care about them. Very much. You know I do," his tone once again quiet, if not plaintive. "I simply don't believe telling her anything for the sake of mere revenge is worth ruining all of our lives here for."

The smile on Clary's face faded as suddenly as it appeared. "Then you're a fool," she retorted. "This pretty little life you're so desperate to keep is a lie. That man could explode on us all at any moment. Anyone who is capable of doing what he did, could. This isn't about some petty revenge for the sheer sake of the thing. It's about freedom for us all. Life won't be truly wonderful until we take Va…"

"Did you hear that?" Simon asked anxiously. Clary paused, before rolling her eyes, getting up and walking over to the door. "You are _so_ paranoid." Yanking the door open, her eyes inspected the hallway with her customary indifference before slamming the door closed again. "Nothing there."

"Alright. Let's not argue about it anymore," Simon said returning to his reading.

Clary felt like hitting something.

"You do this every time we discuss it! You pretend the walls have ears to distract me and end the conversation!"

Simon set his book aside and looked his best friend in the eye. "I do not want to talk about this anymore, Clary."

His eyes narrowed again in defensiveness as Clary turned away. "Where is your courage, Si?" she asked before she exited their room through its second-storey window.

* * *

Jace leaned against the wall around the corner from the children's room and gazed up at the ceiling, thankful for the carpet that muffled his shifting feet.

Though his heart rate and breathing were controlled, his mind raced with thoughts and questions about what he had just overheard, and his eyes narrowed, curious, suspicious and shrewd as he replayed Clary's short diatribe in his head.

He didn't know what they were talking about. Only that it had something to do with him, his mother and to the degree that he could discern his father as well. He nodded his head to himself with this conclusion. So long as the word 'dangerous' was mentioned, that could only mean Valentine was somehow surely involved.

Lingering in that hallway, Jace was poised and inclined to dismiss all he had heard. He found the idea of two silly ten year old children plotting to defeat the King of the most powerful sphere in the spiral of Nescada positively preposterous, and knew they would be crushed were Valentine to detect their treachery, if only to serve as an example of his zero tolerance when it came to treason of any kind.

The only thing inhibiting him from writing it off fully however, was that he intuitively knew this had to do with his mother's past. He would never admit it aloud, but he often wondered about his mother and her story and why it seemed like the past simply didn't exist before he was born.

No one spoke of it. No one ever spoke of his golden hair and ochre eyes, so very different from the darker and more exotic colouring of his parents. No one ever spoke of how his mother came to be Queen of the House of Valentine, capital-kingdom of the island-planet Lasan or about why Maryse and Valentine were barely ever seen together or of why his father treated him more as a prized soldier than like a son.

These things were never spoken of … not even by his mother … and he had never asked. As Jace stood there in that hallway with its high, airy ceiling deceptively devoid of the answers to his questions, his head bowed beneath the weight of his imposed isolation and for the first time in his ten years of existence, he felt utterly lost. Though he could never admit it aloud, he yearned to know the secrets surely being kept from him, and vowed, there and then, to learn about his mother's past and his true identity.

Obviously he would never actually consider betraying Valentine to find out what those children had been talking about. He was no fool and knew firsthand what the King of Lasan's capital-kingdom was quite capable of doing. Eyes narrowing to scheming slits, Jace pushed himself away from the wall, flexing and clenching his left fist as he calculated how best to deceive the children and get what he wanted. He wanted to know about his mother. He wanted to know about himself. He would be damned if he let two little children get in the way. He stood straight. Whatever they knew, he would know. Whatever they'd been told, he would be told.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you again for taking the time to read this story! Things are getting tense, and as secrets and deception abound ... what will happen to our three young protagonists? Until next time ... And thanks for reviewing!**


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